Personal Assistant
by Arendal
Summary: Malfoy's out of a job and Harry needs some help at home. He hires Draco to be his personal assistant, but things get a little more "personal" than either of them ever intended for it to be. hardcore smut, slash Draco/Harry, language, light crack
1. You're Hired!

**A/N:** This was going to be a quick one-shot, but I had too much fun with the plot. Now it's a two-shot, but the next chapter will have serious hardcore smut, don't worry! And it'll be up soon. Also, who would you guys prefer who tops? Let me know what you think! REVIEW!

**Summary: **After the war and an ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy lost the majority of his estate and money in order to buy his way out of Azkaban. Now out of a home and job, Draco struggles to find work, until Harry takes pity on him and decides to offer him a job in the auror office. Not as an auror, but as his personal assistant and secretary.

**Warnings: **language, LOTS OF SMUT next chapter. Please do not read if under eighteen.

**_Personal Assistant._**

**_Part I_**

Draco cursed to himself as he struggled to open the closet door. He was living in a flat in _muggle _London, of all places. It was the cheapest he could afford at the moment. And it sucked.

The Slytherin Prince, the Malfoy heir, one of the highest in his class, ex-con, was reduced to living with filthy muggles. He had no source of income anymore, and nothing left. His mother had taken the last Malfoy estate, but Andromeda and that stupid Lupin baby had moved in with his mother before he could.

And Draco was too fucking proud to grovel at his mother's feet for money (he would get none) or shelter (which would only last for a night or two, and he didn't want to put up with a toddler for that long).

Instead, he took all he could, sold precious items of value, rented out a flat, and was looking for work. He, a Malfoy, had to _work._ The thought made him shudder. He was seen in the Ministry often, owling his father's old colleagues constantly for a job opportunity.

But nobody wanted to be seen with a Malfoy. He was an outcast, his crimes (which he deeply, truly regretted, which would be alright if someone actually fucking believed him) had made him that way.

The life his father chose had practically ruined his son's future and resulted in the loss of ancient Malfoy family heirlooms. Decades of history were lost to the highest bidders and stolen by Death Eaters that had spent far too much time in Malfoy Manor when the Dark Lord had had his stay in his home.

However, today seemed to be his lucky day. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement were the more objective, unbiased part of the ministry, and admired his marks in academics more than his current reputation. The Department Head had sent him an owl yesterday evening, requesting an interview with him.

So here Draco was, attempted to open the wardrobe that had the the door that sticks. He wrenched, and growled under his breath, huffing platinum blonde hair out of his grey eyes. He whipped his wand out, about to blast the thing to bits, but calmed himself after a moment and charmed the door into unsticking.

At last it swung open with a sad squeaking noise, and his robes hung on plastic hangers, polished boots below them. They were each more expensive than his current rent. Draco hurriedly began to change after a quick glance at the time, and saw that he was running late for the interview. A minute or two later and he apparated away.

**…**

Harry sat in his office, running a hand through his tousled jet black hair and sighed. Inside his office it was silent, but the general noise from the other departments trickled in due to a light amplifying spell so that he could hear everything that he couldn't see when his door was closed.

Post war had suited him alright, Harry mused to himself. After the battles, he and his friends easily found work in the ministry. He and Ron as Aurors, Hermione in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where she was one of the top lawyers in its ranks.

Ron however, had only barely passed the auror tests and training, and was mediocre at his job at best. But he was lazy and too rash; although he could perhaps come up with some of the best strategies (this was what was keeping him his job), he did less than half of the required paperwork that came with the job. When he was actually on the field, he acted on his feelings and not with the team.

Harry was doing his best to pull some strings around the ministry in order for Ron to keep his job. Already Ron's pay had been docked; but no one wanted to argue with the Chosen One or whatever. Plus, they were both war heroes, and that was also something that Harry was being forced to use whenever Kingsley called him into his office to discuss the continuous problems that Ron was causing.

Already Harry was filling out paperwork, sending a report to Kingsley in a dutiful attempt to explain why Ron had accidentally set fire to Montague by accident last week while they were trying to catch a rogue Death Eater.

The explanation, Harry thought as he read it back to himself, sucked arse. There really was no logical reason for that to have happened. Now Montague was at St. Mungo's with a week's paid leave, the Death Eater had gotten away, and Ron was probably in the Department of Law Enforcement to visit Hermione.

Visiting Hermione was something both Harry and Ron enjoyed, but Ron was doing it so often, it could be estimated that he only spent half of working hours at his actual job.

Harry knew, deep in his heart, that Ron would eventually get sacked, and it should have happened a while ago, but he was trying to put it off as long as possible. This latest fiasco would have Ron suspended at best, and with the right strings and enough begging, Kingsley would agree.

_Fuck it._

Harry threw the quill down. There was no way to write this down without getting Ron fired, so he would try to talk to Kingsley later. He instead eyeballed the stack of parchment sitting atop the far right corner of his desk.

He'd wanted the auror job to help save people, but it seemed like all he was doing was sign papers. And there were so many things he had to do! The hours of the average auror cut into a lot of personal time. His clothes weren't getting cleaned, his house was a mess; he just wasn't taking care of things that didn't involve his work at the moment. Harry ate takeout practically every night and there was practically nothing edible in his kitchen anymore.

There was too much required for him to do. He sighed again. If only Time-Turners were still around. And if only Ron would do his fucking job correctly! Harry glared at the report he'd been attempting to write as if it was the whole reason he hated his job. Merlin, this had sounded so much better when he'd been a fifth year.

He picked up his quill to begin his work again, because it was better to start now and leave his office at the normal hour than have to work late to write on stupid parchment. Just as he began to sign his name, the door burst open, banging into the opposite wall.

At an instant Harry dropped his quill, his hand on his wand in his pocket, head shooting up to see who was in the doorway, and swore to himself when he saw his best mate, Ron.

"What the fuck?" Harry exclaimed.

"Mate, you'll never guess who was in the Department of Magical Law!" Ron grinned, stepping forward and kicking the door shut behind him.

"Who?" Harry sighed for the second time that day.

"Malfoy!" Ron said, sitting on the chair opposite Harry's and reclined lazily, propping his feet up on his desk.

Harry's brow furrowed. No one had really heard from Malfoy after all of the Death Eater trials had died down. And honestly, after he vouched for Draco and Narcissa, and they were released Harry had forgotten all about them. Besides, they shouldn't be in any legal trouble, otherwise the story would've long since made the papers.

"What on earth was Malfoy doing at the Department of Law Enforcement?"

"'Mione said Malfoy was looking for a bloody _job_, can you believe that?" Ron guffawed. "Ferret Boy working like a normal person. 'Course he can't rely on daddy's money anymore."

"But the Malfoys are rich," Harry pointed out, confused. "Why would he need a job? All of Lucius' money should've gone straight to him since he's the heir."

"Dunno, mate, 'Mione said something about fines and shit. I wasn't really paying attention." Ron laughed again. "Bloody wanker, if he's broke he fucking deserves it."

Harry eyed his friend warily. "Well, anyway Ron, there's something I need to talk to you about."

There was a knock on the door, and both friends turned. An auror sheepishly stood in the doorway.

"Hullo Harry! Kingsley requested to see you and Ron in his office at your earliest convenience."

"Thanks, Martin." Harry smiled politely at the auror, who nodded and left.

"Right, mate, let's go!" Ron said, jumping up. "What d'you think Kingsley wants from us now?"

They walked leisurely through the auror department. "Well, Ron . . ." Harry began awkwardly, reaching his hand up to scratch behind his neck.

Just as they turned the corridor to Kingsley's office, they nearly slammed into a head of very familiar platinum blond hair.

For a moment Harry didn't recognize the lean man, with pale skin and proud shoulders, but then Harry saw his face and instantly knew that was Draco Malfoy. Emerald green eyes met stormy grey. And for the second time that day, Harry's heart hammered in his chest, but this time, it was for a very different reason.

"Malfoy," Ron sneered, slipping his hand into his pocket to draw his wand. The others in the hallway stopped to watch.

"Weasel." Malfoy's lip curled, very attractively, Harry noted. They were a baby pink color, not too thin but not overly thick. Harry watched his eyes dart to him, as if daring him to make a move.

"Hi, Malfoy." Harry greeted him cautiously but politely. "How are things?"

Malfoy glared. "I'm sure you know exactly how things are."

Harry was bewildered. What had happened? He took a moment to study Malfoy's appearance again. His elegant black robe probably costed twice the amount of Harry's own. But he noted Draco's hair was no longer slicked back to make him look cruel. Instead it lay normally, just about to reach his eyes. Malfoy looked completely fine.

"What do you-"

"None of your fucking business, Potter!" Malfoy spat. Harry recoiled at the biting words, and Ron stepped forward.

"Don't talk to him like that, you prat!" Ron's wand was out and pointed dangerously at the blond man.

"I'll talk the way I'd like, thank you very much!"

"Well you shouldn't, because you can't buy your way through anything anymore, can you? How's it feel to be poor, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's face flushed light pink with both anger and embarrassment.

"You can go fuck yourself, you bloody-"

"_That's enough._" Kingsley's voice boomed. "Everyone back to work." when no one moved, he barked, "Now!" and the hallway was abustle with quiet conversation once again. Coworkers walked away. Ron attempted to step away with them, but Kingsley wasn't done. "You three - " he pointed at Malfoy, Harry, and Ron. "Come to my office."

**…**

Draco studied Potter's appearance as Kingsley questioned them as to what happened.

"What the hell were you think, arguing like that in front of everyone -" Draco chose to tune that out, and stared holes into the back of Harry's mussed jet black hair. He had a muscular build; his powerful arms were crossed, and Draco could practically feel what they were like wrapped around his body, Potter's light red lips on his, and Draco's hands wrapped in Potter's silky locks -

"Mr. Malfoy!" Kingsley said a little loudly.

Draco glanced up. "Yes?" he asked curtly.

"Could you explain to me what you were doing in the ministry building today?"

Draco felt his pride drop, and he quietly murmured, "For a job interview."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "In the auror department?"

"Please, don't flatter yourself" Malfoy scoffed. "I was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Malfoy, are you aware that you legally cannot work in over half of the ministry branches? Law Enforcement is one of them."

He felt his face go pale. "W-What?"

"Due to your war crimes and recent family history, you cannot work in the Ministry. It was part of the agreement when you opted out of Azkaban."

Well, that explained why so many of his contacts had denied him a job interview.

"But then what am I supposed to do?" Draco cried, enraged. "What respectable job is left?"

"You could always go muggle." Weasel snorted.

Draco sneered at him. "Is that what your father decided to do?" He took great amusement in watching his face go from red to an ugly purple.

"Listen here, you tosser -"

"Ronald," Kingsley admonished. Then he addressed both of them: "You are both responsible adults. Act like it. Harry, please escort Mr. Malfoy out of the office. Ron, I have called you here to discuss your recent actions; we shall discuss that now."

"Kingsley, listen," Potter started, but Kingsley shook his head.

"I'll here from you later, Harry." Potter's face wilted adorably, "Please escort Mr. Malfoy out," he repeated a bit more strongly.

"Yes, sir." Potter stood, and Merlin, he has not grown at all since Hogwarts, Draco realized as he stood and both of them seemed terribly aware of the height difference at that moment.

"This way, Malfoy." Potter opened the office door, shooting a warning look at Weasel.

Draco strode out of the office, tossing his platinum hair back.

He walked aside Potter as they made their way out of the department. Several people shot them strange looks and pointed their fat fingers, whispering not-so-quietly to each other.

"So, you're an auror?" Draco asked snidely. "Ever the martyr, aren't you Potter?"

Potter sighed, exasperated. "Honestly, being an auror is more about paperwork than it is helping people. I can't even remember the last time someone said thank you to me that wasn't for killing Voldemort."

Draco's eyebrows raised slightly, but he refrained from commenting.

"And it's not like all of that paperwork is completely necessary, either! It's utter rubbish and I never have time to do anything." Potter ran his hands through his hair.

"Do what? Is your silly little job cutting into your playtime?" Draco sneered. Of course Potter had other things he considered more important.

"Like, erm," Potter trailed off, and blushed. "Grocery shopping," he mumbled. "And, uh, laundry. Those type of things."

"What the hell? Can't you just get a bloody elf?" Draco spluttered. "You're ridiculous."

"Well, Hermione is still advocating that S.P.E.W thing, you know. She'd maim me if I got a house-elf." he ducked his head bashfully. Draco was sure it sounded stupid even to Potter's own ears. It certainly did to him.

"Then hire someone!" Draco retorted. Merlin, Potter _was _daft.

"Huh," Potter stopped in his tracks. "That's . . . a good idea."

"Of course it is," Draco said proudly. He was always full of good ideas.

"And I know just who to hire!" Potter declared, grinning. "You, Malfoy!"

Draco turned, flabbergasted. "I beg your fucking pardon?" and then he added angrily, "I'm not going to be your slave, Potter!"

Several people turned at this, and both of them blushed. Potter grabbed Malfoy's arm and led him into his office.

"Can't you see, Malfoy? It's perfect!" his smile lit up his entire face.

Although Draco liked the feeling of his large hand on his arm, he wrenched himself of Potter's grip and snarled, "No, I can't possibly see how that's perfect at all! You're fucking crazy!"

Harry frowned, "But I can help you, Malfoy. I'll pay you, too. How much do . . . erm, assistants get paid here?"

"Around seven sickles an hour." Malfoy hissed. "And it's not nearly enough for me."

"I'll pay double!" Harry retaliated. "You'll get weekends off and paid vacations. I know you need the money."

Draco paused. He really did need the money.

"And," Harry continued. "It's not like you'll work for me forever. Just for a bit. I'll pull some strings, set you up with someone, and you can quit whenever you want."

" . . . Fine." he huffed. "But I get free lodging, and I won't work for more than twelve hours a day."

"Deal!" Harry proclaimed. "I'll have someone from Gringrotts draw up a contract immediately, and you can start tomorrow morning. Is that alright?"

"Yes," Draco sighed. What was he getting himself into?

**…**

That next morning, Draco was woken up at four am by an owl poking at his grimy flat window. He rolled out of bed and let the damn thing in. An envelope with the Gringotts seal was released onto his bed, and next to it fell another smaller one. It had no seal, just 'from Harry Potter' scrawled onto the back.

He opened the Gringotts one first. It was a copy of the contract for his new 'job'. Potter had already put his signature on it. He spent nearly an hour carefully picking it apart, reading through it for any loopholes. It listed what Draco was required to do, such as simple house cleaning, cooking, running errands, and arranging Potter's meetings, schedules, and paperwork.

Because he could no longer afford the Malfoy lawyers, he had to go through the entire thing himself. Deciding it was adequate, he grabbed a filthy muggle pen (his last quill had been lost some time ago) and signed it.

After, he grabbed Potter's letter. It was only a short note.

_Malfoy, _

_Enclosed is a copy of our contract; I hope you find it acceptable. If you have any concerns, you may owl me any time. Otherwise, please sign and return it to Gringotts. Also, if I remember correctly, you asked for lodging. I'd like you to start your new job today by moving into Number 12 Grimmauld Place with me. I'm taking the day off to get you settled in. Please come in at around eight or nine am. _

_Harry Potter_

Draco set the letter down, and then jumped when it suddenly burst into flames. "Holy shit!" he shouted, jumping up to fill a cup with water and then tossed it onto the remains of the letter, which had burned a hole into his blanket.

A loud beeping noise went off, and Draco jumped in surprise again, and then water began to pour from the ceiling. He couldn't find how to turn it off, but he heard the rest of the apartment building began to shout loudly, and he decided now was an acceptable time to make his leave.

He kicked open his two trunks and knapsack and silently waved his wand. Clothes neatly folded themselves, all of his belongings were automatically arranged. Someone began to bang on his door. Draco whipped his cloak over his shoulders, fastening it, and apparated away with his things into the Leaky Cauldron. He appeared, soaking wet, at about six-thirty in the morning.

The few people already there stared at him. He tilted his chin and calmly strode to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of floo powder, declared Potter's address and was away in a whirl.

He was deposited into his living room moments later. He gracefully stepped out, but his still wet shoes slipped on tile and he fell on his bum with a thud.

Potter rushed in, wand in hand, only to discover a wet blond sitting on his arse in his house.

"You're early," he stated. "Tell me, is it raining outside?" he joked.

"Shut up," Malfoy flushed. "Stupid muggle flats have bloody rain in them."

"What the fuck? Potter said, puzzled. "You mean sprinklers? Did you set off your fire alarm? And what were you doing in a muggle flat?"

"Living there, you imbecile. Why do you think I asked for fucking lodging?"

"Oh." was all Potter managed.

"Erm, I'm sorry."

"Pft, why do you care?" Draco used a quick drying charm and took off his cloak. "This is what I've been reduced to, serving and living with filthy muggles."

Potter frowned. "It's not as bad as you think."

Draco shook his head. "Whatever. Where will I be staying?"

"Follow me. I'll give you the tour." Potter led him down the hallway, and Draco observed his living quarters. The house was practically one giant rubbish bin. There was dirty laundry, balled up parchment, half-eaten foods and used plates everywhere. Draco reckoned he couldn't see even an inch of clean space. He noted the heads of previous house-elves lining the walls in one hallway. Draco made a face.

Potter showed him the different rooms, most of which were unused and left to become dust. They went through the Black Library, which showed an impressive book collection. But all in all, the whole house needed some serious cleaning.

And even if the whole house was cleaned, Draco supposed it still wouldn't look good. The stained curtains were nasty shades of blacks and greens. He couldn't even tell what color the carpet was supposed to be, but it released small puffs of dust every time he stepped on it.

The house was naturally dreary looking, with constant dark colors. He'd have to change that.

Menacing portraits peered at him.

"Ah, a Malfoy!" one called out. "Our kind at last!" they chuckled.

"This house belonged to my godfather, Sirius Black, and his family." Potter explained at his questioning glance.

"You're related to the Blacks?" Draco hadn't known that. It explained why the house was so dark, literally. But it did make him feel a bit at ease to be living in magical home owned by a dark family.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's by blood, though."

"Hm," Draco pondered, but just as he was about to say something, Potter stopped. "That's my room." he pointed to the french doors are the end of the hallway. "And this one is yours." He opened the double doors with scratched gold handles.

The room had plain white walls. It came with a dresser, wardrobe, a set of bookshelves, desk and chair, and a cushy black couch beside a large window. Emerald curtains with an ugly stain kept the sunlight out.

To the far corner was a queen sized bed, with a wooden frame so dark it looked black, and blankets of the same deep emerald as the curtains adorned the blankets, only these had silver patterns intricately stitched into them.

The room was very Slytherin, and it felt like home.

"So . . . " Potter shifted awkwardly. "Do you like it?"

"It'll do," Draco murmured. He set his things down. "Has the house always been like this?" his tone became accusatory.

Potter scratched the back of his neck, "Erm, yeah, I think."

Draco was in for some serious cleaning, then, because once he got past Potter's top coating of rubbish, he'd have decades' worth of dirt underneath.

"You don't have to actually clean the whole place," The dark haired boy assured him quickly. "Just clear up my rubbish, if that's alright."

"Of course it's alright, I signed the bloody contract." Draco snapped. He waved his wand and sent his things neatly into drawers and the wardrobe. It took less than a minute. He didn't have many things.

"Is this all your stuff?" Potter asked, eyebrows furrowing. Draco knew he'd probably assumed the Malfoy would be bringing half his manor with him.

"Yes." Draco said shortly. He arranged the minimal amount of books and trinkets onto his bookshelves himself.

"But what happened to the rest of your things?" Daft Potter was as daft as ever, it seemed.

"Expunged. Weren't you there when the ministry stormed my home?" Draco drawled. It hurt on the inside, and he made sure to glare at the auror.

"E-Expunged? But why?" Potter's eyes bulged in shock. Draco took a moment to admire the green in his eyes.

"Because my family was, and still is, dark. They've seized my manor, stole all my heirloom and family history because of a stupid decision my father made. And I get the consequences while he rots in Azkaban." He turned away. Thinking about his father and his homelessness hurt, but he refused to let Potter see the tears in his eyes.

"I didn't know about that. I'm sorry." Potter said truthfully. He rested a warm hand on Draco's shoulder, but he was shrugged off.

"I don't need your pity." he muttered. Draco straightened himself. "Let's get down to business then, shall we?"

**…**

Potter later left to visit his silly friends at the Weasley hole, and Draco made himself at home in his house. He collected the cleaning appliances Potter had lent him. He set up buckets of soap and buckets of clean water, and when he ran out of buckets he transfigured more. He tossed around sponges and cleaning rags, and used magic to set everything to work.

He felt like a bloody house-elf, but he was getting paid, and that was all that mattered. And it's not like anyone knew Malfoy was doing all of Potter's dirty work (literally). He set up two large bins. One was Potter's personal parchments and things he'd found lying around. The other was for magical artifacts that were lying around the house that he would let Potter sort through which he'd keep and which he'd throw out (or in some cases, hand over to the ministry. Merlin, the Blacks were a dark family!).

He set up the biggest water bin for laundry, which washed itself and then dumped itself into an empty basket, where Draco would hang them up to dry. He transfigured napkins into feather dusters and attempted to sweep the whole house clean.

However, it was practically useless. Every layer of grime he had scrubbed away just revealed another. Draco had even managed to work the muggle vacuum so he could clean the carpet, but the dust stubbornly persisted and there were stains that Draco could neither remove nor identify.

Finally, he gave up, throwing himself onto the loveseat, crossing his arms and huffing. "Fuck it," he grumbled. "Just the fuck this whole thing."

He ripped the carpet up, half with magic and then with his own strength. He would have to replace it, unless . . .

He whooped. Underneath the hideous vomit colored carpeting lay wood flooring. Now _that_ was something he could work with it. Eagerly he snatched up a mop and summoned a few sponges. Draco began to clean the floor.

Slowly but surely, the floor began to shine. Draco smiled proudly to himself. He threw open curtains, but even the sunlight wasn't fixing the dreary look of the place. After a few moments of pondering, he decided it was just the colors of the house. And that had to change.

He ripped the curtains off completely (they were moldy anyway, and moth-bitten). Stained and faded wallpaper was torn off to reveal plain white walls. The couches were also impossible to clean and repair, so he decided to fuck it and banished those. The phrase "fuck it" was becoming very popular to him.

Soon enough, all of the ugly, dark furniture and wallpaper was gone. He went as far downstairs as could, and after a nasty encounter with a boggart he found paint cans; Draco discovered it was suitable and made orders for more.

He knew, due to experience with the manor, some of the best paints and furniture places, and Draco owled them, requesting paint colors. He wanted to use greens, but Draco knew that the Gryffindor in Harry would not agree, but Draco would never live with himself if he painted the Ancient and Noble house of Black in scarlet red and gold.

So he compromised and ordered light golden and shimmery silver paints, and decided that would sort of be the 'theme' of the house. Finally, towards the evening time, Potter had still not yet returned from the Weasley hovel and Draco sat down in the formal dining room. It was the one room that was salvageable, but seemed to not have been used in a decade. The room was already done up in mostly silver, with a sparkling chandelier adorned with intricately patterned candle holders and half used candles, which he lit.

The ten foot long table was made of mahogany, with straight backed chairs of the same wood. A beheaded house-elf made the centerpiece, which he promptly banished and cleaned up.

Finally, Draco summoned the sponges and buckets back. The floor shone, the walls and windows bared and most of the furniture were gone. The fireplace was roaring, warming the chilly halls and rooms.

He probably figured he should've prepared some food, but at that moment Potter flooed into the house. He stumbled in, nearly falling, and was clutching a large brown bag. And then he glanced up and around his house.

"What happened to everything?" he asked, bewildered.

Draco flushed slightly. He hadn't really thought too much about the repercussions he'd get from throwing out half of Potter's belongings. The whole 'fuck it' had seemed like a much better idea earlier.

"It was mostly rubbish anyway." Draco blurted. "I ordered some more furniture to replace it already. And paint and stuff . . ." he trailed off awkwardly. Fuck, the first day of his job and he was already about to be fired.

Potter looked around, baffled, but at last he said in wonder, "It's so clean."

"What?" Now Draco was confused. "You aren't angry?"

"Why on earth would I be angry?" Harry laughed. "I've never seen this house so clean in my life! Anyway, are you hungry? I brought Chinese take-out."

Draco's stomach rumbled. He'd forgotten all about eating. He hadn't even had breakfast! "Yeah, I guess I am."

And although Draco showed him the dining room, they ended up eating on the floor where the living room used to be, in front of the fire place. And they actually managed to have a decent conversation.

All in all, it turned out to be a fantastic first day for Draco.

**_End Part I. _**

**A/N: **Who do you guys think should top? Next chapter will be up soon! Please REVIEW! REVIEW!


	2. Eggs and Newspapers

A/N: Notes at the bottom. Apologies for the time this took; I have no excuses.

_Personal Assistant._

_Part II_

Malfoy had not touched Harry's room during his cleaning spree. Harry figured that was actually smart of Draco; he was not sure how he would feel if Malfoy had rifled through his things without permission. However, it was in desperate need of cleaning, so before he left his bedroom that morning, Harry removed some classified auror documents and personal belongings so that he could give Malfoy permission to clean it today. He also put his dirty underwear and socks in the laundry bin himself. That's when he began to smell something burning. He grabbed his wand and quickly made his way to the kitchen.

He was prepared to fight an entire fire, but instead found Malfoy cursing under his breath at a frying pan with an unidentifiable substance on it. He was surprised that the other man had even managed to turn on the stove since Harry had added muggle features into Grimmauld's kitchen.

"What were you trying to make?" Harry coughed and tried to wave away the smoke filling the room. He was grateful the entire pan wasn't on fire, but it might as well have been with the amount of smoke in his nose and lungs.

"Fucking eggs!" Malfoy snapped, poking the said food with his wand and it finally did burst into flames.

"Merlin, were you never taught to cook?" Harry shouted, shoving him away from the stove and managing to grab the handle of the pan. He dumped the flaming eggs into the kitchen sink and ran cold water over it. The water met the eggs and pan with a loud hiss, and steam billowed into the air.

"I've never had to cook before. And why the fuck would you replace everything with muggle appliances, of all things?" Malfoy retorted angrily.

"You've clearly never been in a kitchen a day in your life," Harry growled. But he sighed. He had to give Malfoy credit for attempting to cook with no culinary knowledge. "It's alright," Harry checked the pan, and there was no permanent damage, so no harm, no foul. "Thank you for trying," he stopped the tap, the fire was gone and so were the so-called eggs that had blackened and gone down the sink drain.

Malfoy nodded silently. Harry wasn't sure what was going through his mind at this moment, but he decided to change the subject since this incident was not a big deal and the crisis had been resolved safely.

"I don't really eat breakfast in the mornings before I go to work," Harry said by way of apology. "So it's okay. I'm sorry, I should've told you yesterday."

"Oh." Was all Malfoy managed. Harry stole a glance at him, and his face remained impassive.

"And I know it said that cooking was a requirement in your contract, but it's really not. I know how to cook."

"I doubt you're any better than I am," Malfoy scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. Harry grinned, but turned away to hide it, busying himself with the pan.

"I'll cook you dinner tonight, then," Harry said nonchalantly. His heart thudded in his chest. Did he just ask Draco Malfoy to dinner? He supposed not, since they already lived together.

"Fine!" Malfoy huffed. "We'll see about that tonight." Did Malfoy just accept to go on a date with him? No, he was probably just _really _overthinking everything. Still, his stomach fluttered in excitement.

"Good. Now, let me show you how to actually cook eggs. I prefer them scrambled, which is really easy to do." Harry said kindly. Malfoy made no movement to near him, but while he demonstrated, Harry checked his facial expression, which was paying rapt attention to him but otherwise emotionless. While the eggs cooked, Harry also showed him how to use the toaster and make coffee.

They ate scrambled eggs, toast, and drank coffee together standing around the kitchen island. While the ate their breakfast, Harry spoke, "Can you clean my room, please?" he felt awkward asking, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He wasn't sure how to give his newfound assistant orders without sounding like a prat. "You can go to any room you want, except Sirius's. He was my godfather and I just . . . " Harry trailed off, and strategically chose to shove a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth at that very moment. Harry had chosen to move out of Sirius' bedroom some years ago, but also chose to preserve the state it was in because it felt like he could still be connected to his godfather in that room.

Malfoy was looking at him critically, and Harry felt his face heat. "Yes, I suppose I can do that." The blond man said evenly in acceptance.

"Great!" Harry beamed. "Also, I know you threw a lot of the furniture and stuff into the rubbish," Malfoy opened his mouth to speak in defiance, but Harry quickly added, "Which is totally fine, it belonged there anyway. But I am due some replacements, so I'll leave a few galleons on the counter before I leave for you to shop?" He ended his statement with the inflection of a question, and Malfoy nodded his assent.

"Okay, good. Er," Malfoy didn't look like he appreciated being spoken to like a dog. Harry supposed his excessive praise was a bit much. "So, I'm going to go shower and then leave, and you just . . . do what your thing, I guess." Harry chose to leave it at that and left to shower and dress for work.

…

Merlin, what a mess Draco's morning had been. He had woken up just before sunrise and had been unable to fall back asleep, so he had showered and dressed early and went to the kitchen to arrange something for breakfast. While Draco's culinary skills were lacking, he was fairly certain he could figure out how to do some basic cooking with a little magic within the standard wizarding kitchen, but to his disgust, the majority of appliances that would normally grace a wizard's kitchen had been replaced by muggle rubbish.

But he did some searching, and after engaging in a wrestling match with pots and pans that he quickly put a silencing spell on, Draco managed to locate a carton of eggs in a very cold metal wardrobe-type thing. He used his wand to crack the eggs into a pot and studied the stove carefully. There were multiple numbers above dials and short words such as 'high' and 'low', and a scale of numbers one through six. Draco supposed that eggs needed to cook with a lot of fire, so he placed the pan on top and pressed high, and turned the dial to six.

Bluish and then a normal red orange fire erupted from the stove with a clicking noise and the eggs began to sizzle. Draco, already impatient, muttered, "_Incendio_," under the eggs and then again under the pan, and although by some miracle a true fire did not appear, heavy smoke began to fill the air.

Just as he began to curse under his breath, Potter entered the room to fix his kitchen crisis. After their short altercation, the fire was out and Potter was thanking him? And even apologizing? Draco was confused. Merlin, why wasn't he sacked by now? Potter even taught him how to make proper scrambled eggs, and it was very simple once the machinery was explained to him.

The eggs weren't terrible, either. And it turns out that Draco was pretty decent at making coffee. Before leaving for the ministry, Potter stopped by the kitchen again (Draco had started washing the dishes while Potter was in the shower). He had a small bag that he dropped on the kitchen counter with a thud.

"Here's the money for stuff . . . you can get whatever you want with this, I don't really care," Potter did the thing where he shifted his weight on his feet.

"I don't need your charity," Draco snapped, aggressively scrubbing a coffee mug.

"Right, well, I wasn't really offering it to you," Potter narrowed his eyes. Instead of retorting, Draco bit his tongue and relaxed his shoulders. Their banter was strangely comforting to him; he had been concerned that Potter would try to befriend him further, but they were strictly acquaintances and nothing else.

"Good," He could see Potter staring at him in his peripheral vision, so he turned to glare. "What?" Draco snapped irritably.

"Nothing," Potter looked far too attractive after a shower. His hair was wet and pointing in different directions – it gave him incredible sex hair.

Draco could imagine what he looked like in just a towel under his waist, his chest wet with little droplets of water and dripping down the V of his abdominals and sliding below the towel to his –

Potter finally spoke again, "I like to put the mugs in the kitchen cabinet above the sink," Draco obediently set the freshly cleaned mug in the new location. "I'll see you tonight," he nodded his farewell and flooed to the ministry.

"See you tonight." The words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them.

…

That was not the strangest morning of Harry's life, but it was probably one of them.

He stepped from the fireplace and into the ministry, and people turned to look at him as he strode down the halls on the way to the auror department. Harry had long since grown used to staring, but when it was as intent as this he knew an issue had presented itself to the public, and it was most likely unflattering.

But if Harry thought the staring in the atrium was bad, it was nothing compared to the death glares he got from his own department. He decided to stop by Ron's office to steal a copy of _The Daily Prophet_, which was probably where this new rumor of some sort had erupted. It was too bad he had left for work before a copy had reached his house.

But Ron's office was empty – quite literally, it seemed. The desk drawers were left open and bared, the bookshelves were clear of the items and knickknacks, and even the rubbish bin lacked its crumpled balls of parchment and empty food wrappers.

Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and he turned to go to Kingsley's office, but the minister was already walking up to him. "Kingsley – what's happened?"

"Let us go to your office, Auror Potter." Kingsley said gravely.

"Is Ron okay?" Harry asked, reaching into his robe pocket to hold his wand. He was about to apparate to his and Hermione's flat, or perhaps to the Burrow.

"Ronald is in perfectly good health," Kingsley assured as he gestured for Harry to sit in his office chair, and the minister himself sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

"But – why?" Harry wasn't sure what to ask.

"I sacked Ronald after you left yesterday," Kingsley said calmly. Harry straightened in his seat, opening his mouth to reply, but Kingsley held his hand up in a silent plea for patience. "You and I both know his performance has been below adequate. This was inevitable."

"But sir, Ron – "

"Will no longer be working as an auror," Kingsley interrupted smoothly. "However, he will continue to act as a paid consult for attack strategies when we call upon him."

Harry relaxed a little. Maybe Ron wasn't completely sacked, and if he was still a helpful asset then he could perhaps earn his job back over time.

"However, I refuse to hire him as a full time auror again, and he is strictly forbidden from fieldwork." Kingsley sighed. "He did more harm than good in the department, and you know it, Potter."

Harry looked away, fighting his emotions. He knew he should be angry, he should be defending Ron, but he also knew that Ron shouldn't really be working in the auror department, either. And he felt guilty for accepting the sacking of his best friend without a fight.

"There's nothing else we can do for him?" Harry asked. He was grasping at straws, he knew. "What's Ron supposed to do now?"

"I hear from the Department of Magical Games and Sports that Hogwarts is in need of a new Quidditch referee and flying instructor," Kingsley suggested. "I thought perhaps you could let him know that the position is open later today." He slid an envelope of what Harry presumed to be the job offer across his desk.

"Alright," Harry said grudgingly. "Thank you for your honesty, Kingsley." He really did appreciate Kingsley's lack of bias and his ability to make objective decisions.

"Harry," Kingsley sighed, and Harry looked up at the use of his first name. It was rare for Kingsley to ever refer to him as anything other than his surname while at work. Something was wrong. "Have you seen the _Prophet_?"

"Not yet," Harry said cautiously. The feeling of dread came back into his stomach, and Kingsley retrieved a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ from his robe pocket (which was expanded to fit multiple documents). He unrolled the paper and passed it to the young auror. His face turned ashen, and then anger took over, "What is this?" his voice rose angrily.

**_Potter Exchanges Weasley Sidekick for Malfoy Pauper?_**

**_By Rita Skeeter_**

_It is common knowledge that Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter have been friends since they attended Hogwarts together, but an altercation yesterday afternoon seems to have changed things. Witnesses within the Auror Department saw a three-way argument between the Boy-Who-Lived and his sidekick, and their longtime enemy and ex-Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. Further investigation reveals that Mr. Weasley is responsible for putting Auror Joseph Montague in St. Mungo's hospital exactly a week ago due to a careless mistake made by Ronald Weasley that almost cost Mr. Montague his life and allowed for the escape of notorious Death Eater, Rodolphus Lestrange. For more information on this mass murderer and the mission gone awry, see page eight._

_Montague reveals in his statement, "Ron Weasley has done nothing but hurt the auror department since he arrived here. He's lazy and stubborn and makes all of us look bad." Other sources within the department confirm this statement, so it was no wonder that Ron Weasley's supposed best friend, Harry Potter, sacked him yesterday afternoon. Not only has he been fired, but Weasley seems to have been replaced that very same day by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has been left underprivileged for his crimes against the ministry during the war. The majority of his property has been seized and expunged by the ministry. The Malfoy fortune has seen a significant decrease in their Gringrotts bank account, leaving Draco Malfoy poor and homeless, and unable to find work within any of the departments within the ministry._

_So what did Harry Potter do? He hired him, of course! Our favorite martyr is paying the Malfoy heir to wash his laundry and do his dirty work. From here, all we can do is speculate how deeply the connection between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter goes, but who knows how long it has been going on? Perhaps they have been closer than publically known since even before the war ended, since Potter boldly chose to testify for the Malfoy family during the Death Eater trials. But all we know for sure is that Malfoy the Maid has a nice ring to it, and that Ron Weasley was so terrible at his job that his best friend has cut his connections with him and hired his worst enemy instead. (For further details, see page six.)_

There was also a picture under the caption of the argument between Harry, Ron, and Malfoy from yesterday, where Ron was stepping away from Harry and Malfoy, and a smaller one in the bottom corner of just Harry and Malfoy walking down a hallway together, and Harry smiling while Malfoy nodded his head.

Harry scoffed and threw the paper down on his desk. "I didn't fire Ron, you did!" he shot Kingsley an accusatory glance.

"Would you rather the entire world knew that the Minister for Magic had to fire him? No one would ever hire him again. I'm afraid my hands are tied, Mr. Potter. I was only trying to protect what little of his reputation he had left."

Harry ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. Kingsley continued, "I know it looks bad, but Ron already has a job offer. He can move on with his life, and he will still have a connection to the Auror Department as a consult."

Harry groaned. "There isn't even a connection between firing Ron and hiring Malfoy. Malfoy is my _personal_ assistant, and Ron was a ministry employee who worked under me. It would be different if I was giving Malfoy Ron's job,"

"I've already requested a retraction from _The Daily Prophet_, but I'm sorry, Harry. The damage is done." Kingsley said gravely.

Harry made a frustrated noise, yanking at his hair, "I know," he had no choice but to accept the fact that Ron was probably never talking to him again, and he had just further ruined Malfoy's reputation. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he came home and Malfoy was gone.

Something else came to Harry's mind, and he cursed himself for not wondering earlier: "How did they know?" he murmured. Harry sat in his chair, his eyes narrowing but not focusing on anything in particular.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Mr. Potter," Kingsley said, concerned at the look on the auror's face.

"How did they know I hired Malfoy as my assistant? Who leaked this to the _Prophet_?" Harry's voice trembled with the fury that was igniting in his veins.

"I do not know, but there is little we can do now," Kingsley said pityingly. "I already told you that I am attempting to have it retracted."

"That's not good enough!" Harry shouted. "We need to fix this!" he brought his fist down on his desk. A picture frame of him, Ron, and Hermione laughing together at Hogwarts fell face first. He took a deep breath and sat down, trying to tame his anger. He propped the picture back up, glancing at the photograph. Harry knew that Kingsley was right; the damage was done. Kingsley had reached out to try to fix what he could, but now it was up to Harry to fix his relationships with his friends.

"Thank you for bringing this information to me, Kingsley. If there's nothing else, I'd like to get some work done today," Harry said in blatant dismissal. There weren't many people who could just dismiss the Minister for Magic so flippantly, but Harry was one of the few.

Kingsley nodded and they said their goodbyes. Harry watched the door click shut behind him, and he sat up quickly, rummaging around his messy desk for blank parchment and a quill. Finally locating some, he wrote a hasty note:

_Ron,_

_We need to talk in person today. I have to explain everything to you. The _Prophet_ spun things out of control. It's not what it seems. _

_Harry_

Harry folded it and placed it to the side, and began his second letter:

_Malfoy,_

_I don't know who leaked this information to the _Prophet_, but I promise you that they will pay. I hope you'll allow me to explain tonight, if you haven't quit and left already, that is. Please know that I would never willingly disrespect you like this. _

_Harry_

Harry also folded it and stood, looking at the photograph of him and his friends once more before exiting his office at a fast stride to the ministry owlery, where he sent both letters off, and from there he made his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

It was time he paid Hermione a visit.

_End Part II._

A/N: I guess I'm turning this into a multi-chapter thing. It'll definitely be very short, though. No more than three or four parts. I'm working on the next one now, and it'll be up way sooner than the amount of time it took for me to post this chapter. I know I promised smut last chapter, and it _will _happen, but I really am having too much fun with this plot. On a side note, while it may seem like Draco is kind of just a maid at the moment, he'll have more work to do soon, specifically, in Harry's office.

Thank you for your patience, and your amazing comments from last chapter. They were much appreciated. J Please, please REVIEW!


End file.
